


Can’t you hear my voice?

by KindOfEvil



Series: A Long Road to Your Heart [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Other, Seduction, Slow Burn, The Seduction of Mairon, Years of the Lamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindOfEvil/pseuds/KindOfEvil
Summary: A brief fit of jealousy leads to an understanding between The Dark Vala and His beloved Maia.Or: Melkor has some opinions about Mairon's friends.
Relationships: Implied Eönwë/Sauron | Mairon, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: A Long Road to Your Heart [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715368
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Can’t you hear my voice?

**Author's Note:**

> Some events of this one happen before "Adorned with Adoration" and some after, I just hope I made transition clear enough.

Melkor made His way through the winding streets of Almaren, trying to stay in the cool shades of many trees that decorated its paths. It was bustling as always, many Maiar making their way to and fro, some in hurry and some with a sluggish step. He wondered how any of them could stand the mingling light of the two great lamps, when even in the shadows it was far too bright. The Vala's mood became more foul with each step He took, and more than ever He was convinced that refusing Manwë's offer to live with them was a correct decision. The only reason He was willing to put up with it was for Mairon. Which was the reason He had come here, to visit His beloved fire-Maia. But Mairon was not in the forge, nor was he in his room, and no matter where Melkor looked He could not find even a strand of his soft amber hair. 

Where could the Maia have possibly disappeared off to? The Vala wondered. Rounding the corner He found Himself at a small plaza with the fountain in the middle and a dozen or so Maiar gathered in front. Picking up a familiar melodic voice among their chatter He knew He had found the one He was looking for. So Melkor let his form melt into the shadows and climbed across the nearby wall to the balcony, perfectly hidden from sight by the nearby tree. Taking on His preferred form He sat onto the railing, back flat against the wall and one leg thrown over the other.

He could now see that His Precious was in the middle of the group and seemed to be in the process of explaining something to them, from the sound of it a some sort of tempering process. The Maiar around him listened intently, occasionally rising a few questions or offering praises. More often than not Mairon answered them in a harsh reprimand, being of mind that their questions were rather idiotic, and reminded them that all these things should have by now been clear to them.

Melkor broke into a wide grin as He watched Mairon proudly share his knowledge. Always complaining about such events, yet even from this far away He could tell the Maia was very much enjoying the attention. He covered His mouth to stifle a laughter. _Smug_ _little bastard._

Soon the group decided it was time to leave and bid their goodbyes, many of which sounded rather forced. As the retreating Maiar made their way towards the street He just came from He caught them saying rather ungrateful things about His Little Flame. Claiming he was too arrogant for his own good and wrong in his judgement. Melkor disagreed, He had seen the work of other forge-Maiar and knew that, next to the treasures His Little Flame made, they failed to impress. They might not want to admit it, but they all knew it to be true. They should be thankful Mairon even took the time to speak to someone like them.

With a nod of His head he sent a couple of grimms to teach them a lesson in gratitude and returned to observing the scene below. Only three Maiar were left by Mairon's side and all three were well known to Him. 

"Why dost thou feel the need to berate them?" the straw-haired herald of Manwë asked.

"Many times has Aulë tried to correct their faults yet never do they learn." Mairon elegantly flipped his fiery hair over his shoulder. "One may plead with them for eternity with no results, at least my words make them willing to try to do better."

The herald was not convinced. "These are thy fellow brothers and sisters, Mairon! Shaming them might produce change, but it also hurts for their efforts to be dismissed like so," he accused. 

"Please do not fight." Another Maia stepped between them. "Eönwë, Mairon's words may truly be harsh, but much have we learned from him, one should be grateful for his counsel."

Though his words came in Mairon's defence he still received a knock on the head from the fire-Maia. "Oh, look who speaks! Thou art as bad as the rest of them, if not worse!" he sneered, "If thou hold my advice in such a high regard why art thou so unwilling to listen?!"

Judging from other Maia's miserable expression he was regretting his decision to step in. "I do listen!" he yelled, "I-I am just not as skilled as thou!"

"Skill? Pray tell, Curumo, what does thy skill have to do with losing thy tools, or leaving a mess wherever thou go?!" There was no winning that argument. "I know not what is worse; thy craft or thine organising ability. Thou will lose thy brain in all that mess, if thou have not already."

The one called Curumo shut his mouth and Manwë's herald put a hand on his shoulder. "Do not yell at him! Thou demand far too much, thou knows it. And not everyone can match thy skill or progress, having such a gift does not give thee right to belittle others!" 

A smoke in the shape of a bird flew between them, catching their attention before rising up into the sky and dispersing into nothingness. "My, my, art ye all so lively," the Maia of Irmo gave a small laugh.

"Surely thou dost not approve of such behaviour, Olórin?" Eönwë quickly sought approval of the other.

"Let it go my friend. When have Mairon's words ever been soft and kind?" he asked with his lips quirked in a gentle smile, "Since the first time he opened his mouth we all knew his tongue to be as sharp as the peaks of far away mountains. I say the moment his words carry gentleness would truly be the one for concern." 

Mairon's brows knitted and he seemed to be trying to discern if it was an insult or a compliment.

The herald gave an exasperated sigh, still unwilling to back down, "I just wish he at least attempted to make peace with others. It pains me to see him isolated all the time." 

"Well, he has us, doesn't he?" came Curumo's nervous laugh.

"I am still here..."

"Indeed he does but do we not also spend time with others, as everyone else does. When hast thou seen Mairon in company of anyone besides us three or his Vala?"

"Dost thou think me deaf?!"

"Ah, well, one can not argue with that..."

"So thou agree with me? It is not good for anyone to be so lonesome."

"Hmm, perhaps if he just refrained from snide remarks, more Maiar would seek his company?" 

"He makes snide remarks at us as well and yet we remain by his side," Olórin pointed out. "Also he is gone," he added, gesturing to the place Mairon was standing just moments before.

Both Curumo and Eönwë quickly spun around trying to catch the sight of their friend. "When did he-" 

Melkor too grew tired of their conversation and got up to follow after His Little Flame.

* * *

If Melkor had to chose between the least annoying one of Mairon's three friends - as he called them, it would be the Maia of Irmo, the one named Olórin.

The Maia did not seem to possess any significant powers, as was common amongst Maiar of Irmo, for their mastery did not lie in making of things or shaping of the world but in the realm of immaterial; illusions and dreams. As such he was not valued for his strength, for he had none, rather it was his wisdom that caught the attention of those around him, and he was deemed to be the wisest of Maiar. Many other of his kind often came to him when they needed advice on matters not important enough to be brought to a Vala. And he often gave his fellow Maiar pleasant dreams, to ease the worries of reality. To say his knowledge was severely lacking compared to Melkor would be understatement, the gap between them could not even be measured. Yet he did seem more knowledgeable than others, one could say he was almost as bright as His Little Flame, almost.

The Maia never argued with Mairon and never pestered him. He would give advice but not force the fire-Maia to take it. If Mairon desired silence he would just keep his mouth shut and offer to keep company. If Mairon wanted to be alone he would kindly leave him be. It was probably for this reason that Mairon seemed much more pleased with his company than any other and would even seek it when the frustrations of his craft grew too large and forge too crowded. And while the Maia of Irmo had no interest in partaking in craft, he still listened to Mairon explain his numerous techniques and works. Mairon even claimed he was the only Ainur in the entire Arda that gave ear to his inventions and even complimented his ingenuity, other than Melkor of course. And whenever he spoke of him he had only the good things to say.

Melkor did not like hearing about other Ainur from His Little Flame, especially if he described them in such a fond way. A dread grew inside of Him, that perhaps His Precious held deeper feelings for the other. First He tried to ignore it, then deny it, but more and more He began dwelling on it. There was no evidence of it being true, but that did not seem to ease His thoughts. He could not take it anymore and decided to put a rest to His worries during one of His many visits to the forge, "Why dost thou seek the company of that Maia of Irmo?" 

"Olórin?" Mairon looked at Him askance. "Why dost Thou ask?"

He shrugged, "Ye seem close, which is very unlike thee."

The Maia's entire body tensed, "He pays attention to my words and doesn't judge me for who I am. He is also the least annoying being in Almaren that I know of," he explained before returning his attention to the unfinished piece on his worktable. "I would appreciate if Thou refrained from hurt him." 

"Would thou miss him? If he were to disappear?"

Without stopping his work Mairon replied, "I would saddened, yes, greatly so, knowing that amongst all the Maiar in Almaren I no longer have one kindred soul." He turned towards the Vala. "I consider him a friend, an ally. Surely even Thou has those?"

"Allies?" He thought for a bit. "I have Valaraukar, they are My closest servants. The most loyal of them all, the ones who choose to be at My side from the very beginning and did not abandon their servitude even when I was forced to leave Arda for a short while."

"Would Thou not be saddened to lose them?"

He received no answer, for Melkor had entertained that thought before and it did not sit well with Him, and He wished not to dwell on such things. Instead He proposed another question, "And what about Me? What if I were to disappear?"

The question surprised His Little Flame, making him fidget with his tools as he sought an answer. A slight warmth spread across his face and he desperately tried to hide it, turning away with an annoyed huff, "Why dost Thou ask such ridiculous question? Thou art the strongest of the Valar, where would Thou even disappear to?" 

The reaction made Him feel warm inside, despite the fact that the answer itself was rather cold. He decided to let the Maia of Irmo live another day, if for no other reason than His beloved's request. However there was still one thing that He wished to know the answer to, "The least? Who is the most then?"

His Precious gave Him the strangest of looks and then, without a word, returned to his work.

* * *

Melkor very quickly found that Maia of Irmo was the least of His problems. His Precious indeed did not lie to Him and neither he nor his friend showed any interest in each-other other than friendship.

It was the other two that found themselves a target of His scorn. For different reasons...

The Maia called Curumo had a nose for gossip and knew everything about anything that occurred within Almaren's walls. At first Melkor thought Him a nice source of information and urged His spies to draw as much from him as they could. The efforts earned Him a few interesting tidbits about life in Almaren, but He also found that those pieces of information were not worth the torment His spies, and by extension He, had to suffer for it.

Simply put, that Maia just would not shut up! 

And His spies relayed every single word, it took eternity to just go over the summary of his blabbering and by the end of it Melkor had a great desire to send His spies flying across the Arda. Fortunately for them He did have a need of their servitude and instead opted to -violently- teach them the difference between useful information and the yapping of an idiot.

To make things even worse, that stupid Maia tailed Mairon like his shadow, mouth always at work even when His Precious made it quite obvious the other was being a pest. He wondered if the Maia was ignoring it or was just too dim-witted to notice. Either way the brat was being a nuisance, daring to keep Him from His Little Flame. He was getting tired of having to wait in the shadows for him to get bored and leave, and many ways of disappearing the Maia came to Him. He doubted Mairon would miss this one.

"Did thou hear? They say strange shadows have been lurking about Almaren. Even I saw them! In my room!" Mairon turned away from him, making his way to one of the shelves and pretending to be looking for a tool, when in fact all he wanted was to put some distance between them. Unfortunately, his so-called friend had no sense of personal space and quickly skipped after him. "It was so scary! Dost thou think HE had something to do with them?"

Mairon roughly wrenched the tongs from their shelf. "It was only a play of light, what reason could He possibly have to target thee?"

_Oh, many._

Mairon glared in His direction, but his lips quirked upwards. He turned quickly, hiding it from both Ainur.

"Aulë claims we are his best students, surely He wishes us harm because of that."

Mairon remained unimpressed, _'Students', plural?_

_About to be singular._

He received a warning flare of Mairon's fiery hair as the fire-Maia passed Him by. "Thou thinks too much of these things." Returning to his worktable he discarded the tongs onto the growing pile of tools and reached instead with his hand to take the scorching piece of metal from the forge, completely unbothered by the heat.

The brat shrugged, planting himself behind Mairon to look over his shoulder. "Ah, I hope they go away soon, what if they hurt someone? Arien says we should not worry, Valar will do something about them, but I can't help it!" He leaned soo close Mairon almost hit him it the head with his hammer.

Something told Melkor it was not purely accidental.

"What if they are His spies?! Eönwë said if they are he is going to request Lord Manwë to let him take care of them. He is so reliable, ah, and he cares a lot about thee Mairon. He might not sound like it but he really does. The two of ye should stop arguing so much. He does give good advice, after all he was taught by Lord Manwë himself."

Mairon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Curumo..."

"Yes?"

"I think I just heard Lord Aulë calling," he lied, "Couldst thou check? I can not leave my work now."

"Of course!" Curumo happily rushed to the door, tripped over and got up with a nervous laugh, "Ahaha, I seem to be oddly clumsy as of late."

"Thou art always clumsy," Mairon pointed out letting his gaze briefly fly over the retreating streak of darkness by Curumo's feet. The moment other was out of sight he quickly gathered all the tools and set them back in their place before discarding the piece he was working on into the bucket of scraps.

Just as he was finishing up the cleaning he felt Melkor's arms close around his waist. "I thought he would never leave."

"He will be back," Mairon said, voice full of dread. He quickly shifted to the form of a flame and jumped in front of the archway. «Follow! _»_ he crackled and flew out, and the darkest of shadows followed close behind. 

* * *

The last of Mairon's companions and maybe the worst Maia of all of them was none other than His brother's herald. 

He had seen him before, standing next to Manwë, like a piece of carved rock. Scratch that, Melkor has seen rocks more expressive than that, and with a better personality as well. The herald resembled His brother in many ways; They both had a tendency to act all high and mighty, always imposing their own rules and beliefs on others, pretending to be above everyone else, the very peak of morality. But Melkor knew, oh, He knew how insecure His brother was, how easily swayed his mind could be. Gullible, indecisive, always trying to please everyone. It was pathetic really.

And his herald was all the worse, if told by his Vala to jump off the bridge he would do it without a second thought - if he was even capable of thought to begin with. He was like a parrot, repeating the words of his Vala and expecting everyone else to do the same.

Melkor used to love such unquestioning obedience, but one look at Manwë's Maiar and the concept was forever ruined for Him. He was now of mind that obedience should be a result of a conscious mind surrendering to a greater power, through fear, adoration or any other means. There was no better feeling than having all the once bright spirits turn their backs on their masters and bow to Him, taking on dark and monstrous forms. He loved to see the horror on their faces as their own Maiar renounced their servitude to them. What fool would ever seek dominion over something that could not even think on its own when so many intelligent minds begged to be shackled to His will? 

Yes, His brother was indeed a fool to let such a spirit be bound to him.

Naturally, he and Mairon did not get along and were often at odds, Mairon was after all far too intelligent to mindlessly worship the herald's words like so many others did. The feather-brain even managed to somehow convince himself that he was able to change Mairon for the better. Complaining about every single thing Mairon did. Constantly reminding him that as the best student of Aulë he was supposed to set an example for other Maiar, both in skill and behaviour, completely ignoring the fact that His Little Flame was already doing so. His Precious rightfully believed the other was delusional.

Yet there was something else that irked Melkor about the Maia far more than his constant nagging - It was the way he looked at His Little Flame, gaze full of desire - for control, for ownership. Melkor had seen the way he reaches to touch Mairon's fana, the way his fingers stroke his cheek.

This is what made Melkor want to flay him alive. To rip all of his insides out and make him eat them one by one. How dare he! How dare he desire that which belongs to He Who Arises in Might! He would make the herald regret ever looking in Mairon's direction, ever having such thoughts about His beloved. He cursed the herald to eternity, calling blight of misfortune his way so that his soul never finds joy anywhere in Arda. And He called all His shades, and ordered them to gnaw at his shadow, following him wherever he would go, making sure that his travels never went without incident.

And even then the pest did not learn his place...

"Why didst thou refuse to give it to her?" The herald barged into the forge, disrupting Mairon's concentration.

"Thou wilt have to be more specific than that," The fire-Maia pointed out, sounding very irritated by the sudden interruption.

Eönwë pointed at his neck. "That. Thou refused to share with others again."

Mairon instinctively placed a hand over the ring. The Maia of lady Nessa had asked him earlier to let her wear it for a while and was quite angered by his refusal. He tried to calm her down but things quickly got loud and attracted quite a few onlookers. It was most likely what Eönwë was referring to. "It was given to me as a gift," he explained, though the other already knew this and had quite vocally objected to him wearing it.

"It is against the rules to claim things as our own, everything should be shared amongst everyone. Thou art being selfish as always." Yet another accusation.

Mairon kept quiet for a moment, trying to come up with a good excuse. "She did not know who crafted it, once I told her she lost interest. Should I have kept quiet and given it to her? Knowing that she would be devastated if she knew?" 

The herald paused to consider his explanation. "Thou could have still said it in a more polite manner," he concluded. "Thou acted as if taken in by it, as if obsessed. It is not just me that noticed it." He walked across the room, stopping only few inches away from Mairon. He was taller, not by much, but enough to make Mairon uncomfortable. A hand came to rest on his cheek, a gesture of comfort, but Mairon seemed displeased by it. "Thou should get rid of it. Give it to thy Vala to lock away."

"I like it."

"Thou art obsessed with it!"

"Nay, I am not!" he shook Eönwë's hand away, adding in a quieter voice, "I will craft another one for her, she should be fine with the work of my hands. And thou shall see, I am not obsessed, and I am not selfish. If need be I shall craft one for every Maia and Vala in Almaren, wouldst that satisfy thee?" 

"Fine. But I dost not wish to see thee wear that thing anymore. Thy skill is great, craft a different one for thyself," and with that he turned on his heel and left the room.

Mairon leaned back onto his forge, one hand covering his face and other gripping the ring around his neck. Melkor's stomach turned and He made a step towards him, unfortunately, it was at this very moment that Aulë decided to return with his many students. Mairon quickly put on his indifferent mask and returned to work, though his hands were shaking and his head hung low. Melkor considered sending a thought to him, but with Aulë nearby it was far too risky, and so He was forced to leave.

And He swore that the herald will meet a slow and painful death, He will make sure of it.

* * *

It was not long before He found Himself searching for His precious little Maia again. This time outside the gates of Almaren. He already knew where to look thanks to a small spark that was left waiting for Melkor in Mairon's room. It lay hidden in the corner of his room, but the moment He arrived it floated into His hand and whispered the location into His ear before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

So He made His way to a lone weeping willow, growing on a small hill, away from bustling city of Almaren and its nosy denizens. Its leaves swung in the gentle breeze but gave no way for a prying eyes to see what was hidden in its embrace. As He stepped closer it rustled its branches at Him. «Make way.» He ordered and for once He found the tree was not all too eager to obey His words. It shook with disapproval, but could not withstand the pressure of His power and in the end surrendered, allowing Him entrance. 

His Precious has settled on the soft grass between its roots, eyes closed, but by the stiffness of his form Melkor could tell the Maia was aware of His presence. He closed the distance between them and leaned over the Maia. Catching from the corner of His eye the willow closing its leafy curtains, keeping them hidden.

"Well met," He received a hum of acknowledgement in return.

After a while the Maia cracked his eyes open to gaze up at Him. "Thou always gets what Thou wishes for, huh?" From the tone of his voice Melkor could tell it was more of a statement than a question. "Even the trees which are not of Thy mind seek to please Thee." His head lolled to the side as he let his hand caress one of the roots.

"Aye, for they are of Arda and Arda wishes Me well. Although thine friend here does not seem to like Me much."

"I can not imagine why," the Maia mocked, "Thou can understand them?"

"Indeed I can, and they do whatever I desire of them, as do all living things. Even the Maiar of other's art incapable of disobeying Me. Thou art the only one who denies Me that which I desire."

"Is that so?" Mairon returned his gaze to the Vala.

"It is." The answer brought a slight smile onto Mairon's lips, as if he was pleased to be a nuisance. He folded his hands over his torso and closed his eyes, enjoying the cool shade.

Melkor's gaze travelled over his lithe form, from the slender waist, to his uncovered neck and a golden ring which decorated it. "Dost thou like My gift?" 

Mairon hummed, "Yes, Thou hast my gratitude. It is a very beautiful piece and it pleases me greatly, despite the commotion Thou caused."

Melkor offered no comment other than an amused snort and let His eyes travel higher, all the way to Maia's face which was a balanced combination of sharp and soft features. Elegant yet masculine. He let His hands trail over the sharp curve of his yaw and his plump, rosy lips, pressing slightly to feel their warmth. The Maia's fana was indeed like the flame that inhabited it, warm and gentle, yet also capable of great power, be it creation or destruction. The more He looked at it the more He was convinced that Mairon was much more suited to His ruleship than Aulë's. Even though there was no fair looking Maiar among His servants. But that is only the surface, it would be easy to dismiss the fire-Maia as yet another fair thing, but there was more. Melkor could see it, the fire in His hands might pretend to be a gentle hearth fire, but there was something far more vicious hidden within. Aulë is a fool not to see it, and sooner or later this will become evident to the Maia himself. And he will no longer be satisfied with his current master, and then he would prostrate himself before Melkor willingly and ask to be claimed. For only His power could keep such a wild thing.

Just the idea of it made Melkor's eyes lit up with excitement.

A small huff of laughter broke from the Maia below Him, and he spoke, "What art Thou thinking about?" All whilst letting Melkor's fingers remain upon his lips.

"How perfect thou art." 

"Liar. Thou art not even trying now." 

Now it was Melkor's time to laugh, "Indeed." He let both of His hands fall onto Maia's fiery hair. "Wouldst thou be able to tell? If I was?" He asked, twisting the golden light around His claws.

His Precious raised one fine eyebrow at Him, admitting defeat with a mocking voice, "Probably not, I have heard of Thine mastery of that particular craft." 

"Now it is thee that is not even trying." He leaned closer, pulling at the fine strands and slipping His hands into the flaming cascades to massage Mairon's scalp.

This action seemed to both please and irritate His precious Little Flame, and he tried to pull away from His touch, but was trapped in Melkor's grasp. After a brief struggle he snarled at Him, "Stop, Thou art messing up my hair." 

"Make me, Maia!" 

Mairon rolled his eyes at Him. "It is not Thou that will have to untangle that mess later," he grumbled, "And I am not returning to Almaren with a crow's nest atop of my head."

"Only thou would compare it to such a thing," the Vala chuckled pulling him closer. "I will fix it for thee later so stop complaining." His Precious gave Him a doubtful look but complained no further. He let Melkor's fingers glide through his hair, relaxing into His touch and closing his eyes. "See, it feels nice does it not?" The Maia responded with a stubborn huff. 

Having pacified the fire spirit He returned to admiring the form His Little Flame has chosen for himself. The high cheeks, reddish from anger or perhaps content? The Elegantly curved line of his nose. The slightly upturned corners of his eyes. The lush, dark eyelashes. And elegantly curved brows. As if bewitched by the sight Melkor bent down. His breath caressing Mairon's eyelashes, making them tremble. He closed His eyes, leaning forward to brush His cold lips against the corner of Maia's eye.

Mairon's eyes fluttered open, seeking those of the Vala above him. "What was that?" 

"I do not know," Melkor shrugged, "But I feel like I wanted to do it for a while now."

"It felt nice." Mairon admitted and with a slight quirk of His lips Melkor repeated the action, this time on the other side, and then again at the corner of his lip. Mairon's hands unfolded, reaching for Vala's chest. He rested them there, palms flat over the strong muscles. He felt the Vala's heartbeat against His chest. Rhythm first slow and steady, growing more erratic with each press of Melkor's lips against his hot skin. The sound vibrated through his fana and into the earth below, and Mairon could feel another rise from the depths of Arda and pulsate across his back. The two beats completely indistinguishable from one another. One slender hand returned down, touching the golden ring around his neck as he remembered the first time he heard it.

The Vala pulled him closer then, closing His arms around his body and resting His chin on top of his shoulder. And Mairon wondered just how much discord did Melkor pour into the Arda.

For a moment they stayed in silence, enjoying each other's company and then the Maia shifted slightly.

"Why dost thou target Eönwë?" 

Melkor's whole body rumbled with a low growl. "Why bring HIM up NOW!?"

A shrug, "It is as good of a moment as any."

The Vala had several objections to that but voiced none. "It is the way he gazes at thee."

"With contempt?"

"Nay." Melkor struggled for a fitting term, "As...as if he wants thee." He was never good with explanations. 

Had he not been in such an awful mood Mairon would have laughed at Him. "Worry not, we are not paired, his fated one is Ilmarë." He placed a hand onto Melkor's mouth to stop Him from interrupting, "-And it is against the rules. If that still fails to satisfy Thou then know that even if it were not so I still wouldst not wish him to court me. If he ever does so he does it without my blessing." Mairon looked Him in the eyes, eyebrows raised in accusation. "Same as Thou. I am beginning to think these feelings are far too much trouble than they are worth." He turned away again, "So I wouldst appreciate if Thou stopped tormenting him."

"I had not yet had the chance to properly torment him," the Vala objected, "Slick as a worm he is."

"Good," Mairon's voice carried a dangerous note, "I would hate to have blood of a fellow Maia on my hands."

"I assure thee no wretched blood shall mar thy hands." Melkor gave him a sly grin. 

"Thou knows well I did not mean it like that."

His Precious was no fun at all. "Either way it would be no fault of Thine," He assured.

"I would be guilty by association."

"By what?"

"I am the reason for Thy behaviour, that makes me partially at fault."

Yet another of His brother's fallacies, just how many more did the Maia believe? "My actions art My own."

"And yet the guilt would be upon my soul," The Maia insisted. With a low growl Melkor buried His face into Mairon's hair, sometimes His Little Flame could be so irritating. "So Thou wilt leave Eönwë alone?"

"No," He mumbled.

"Why?"

"HE wants what is MINE!"

"I am not Thine."

"Not yet."

"Do I have any say in this?"

"No?"

"... Once again Thou ignore my will." Mairon sighed burying his hands into Melkor's wild mane, the same way the Vala did to him earlier. He tried to untangle the mess but the obsidian strands kept undoing all of his hard work, slipping away like a mischievous living thing. "I have nothing do I...?" Melkor did not understand why he was suddenly asking Him this. He felt Mairon's hands tremble, and he hugged Him closer. "It is unfair..." His voice was barely audible, yet Melkor still managed to catch it.

He pulled away and watched as Mairon rubbed at the corner of his eye, refusing to let his fana show the evidence of his distress. But Melkor had already noticed, and His voice softened, "Tell Me, why dost thou give such importance to thy will?" 

A rather unexpected question. "I... It is the only thing that is truly mine. The only thing I am allowed to have. The only thing that I do have... Or at least I thought I had," his voice faded with each word. "I feel that... If I were to let myself be shaped as others desire, there would be no more of me left." Mairon's head lulled to the side. "Even now I feel a part of me is out of my reach. So I say nay! And am disobedient because then I am myself." 

And Melkor stared at him in wonder, for no such words were ever spoken to Him. And they brought forth an ugly feeling, an old ache.

Never before did He entertain such a thought, and never has a Maia pointed out to Him the frustrations of its own existence - made to serve, to obey, to be nothing but a tool of their masters. Nothing but an instrument for someone else's glory. Yes, He did indeed understand that feeling. 

And then Maia's gaze hardened and he gave Melkor a warning look - a small spark of flame still alight in his eyes, and it grew, fighting desperately against all odds. "Break my will and «Mayazônôz» shall cease to exist. And a mindless slave Thou shall have, but not me, never me, for I shall be gone!"

He wondered what Mairon would be like, if he freed himself from all the bounds of his masters. Would he be like a wildfire? Consuming all in his path, turning the world to ash. Or would he be a tame fire? The sort that warms the house until its owner returns. Perhaps he would be both. Perhaps neither. Perhaps he would be as chaotic as Himself. Melkor wished to see it, to see what the Maia would become. He wished to keep that raging fire in his eyes, not stifle it like his current masters. He wished to see him burn with all his might. The same way Valaraukar do.

How would they react if He brought this little spark to them? Would they underestimate this beautiful being? Would they issue a challenge? Or would they immediately take him as one of their own?

But the Maia was not ready, no he would not accept Him as his master yet. And Melkor knew that Mairon could not be claimed by force, that he had to submit willingly. He had to be convinced first, that He was what he needed, that He would give him what he desired the most. And Melkor knew, He could see it in his eyes, that once He had Mairon's loyalty it would be a lasting thing. So He said, "Fine, I shall give thee the choices thou so desperately wishes to have." He then grasped Mairon's chin, looking into his fiery eyes, "Let's see how bright thou will burn! Let's see what chaos will be born from thine defiance! Show Me then, thy true flames!"

And a new light was born in fire-Maia's eyes, and flames sparked around his head. "Thou wouldst give me a choice? Even to refuse Thee?"

"Yes. But dost not think I would stop pursuing thee." 

Mairon took a moment to consider His words, and to judge the truthfulness of them. The Maia watched Him with doubt clear in his eyes, and for a moment Melkor thought he would call Him a liar, but then something changed within fiery pools and his body relaxed. "And if I told Thee to stay away, wouldst Thou?"

 _Nasty little thing._ He tugged, bringing Mairon's face closer to His, "Do not push Me, little one." The Maia gave Him a smug smile and Melkor, with a wide grin on His face, leaned to place His lips on his forehead. "Thou little serpent, thinking thou get to order Me around."

"It was worth a try," Mairon shrugged. 

Melkor chuckled, letting go of his chin to push a few loose strands of his hair behind one pointed ear. "And dost not let them convince thee that thou hast nothing. This-" He traced the reflective surface around Mairon's neck, "It is thine, no one else's. And I shall gift thee many more things, and thou shall create many things for thyself, and no one will be able to take them from thee."

"That... It is impossible. They would never allow it." The Maia shook his head, but the smile did not disappear from his face.

Melkor pushed Himself up, dragging Mairon with Him. "Dost not be so convinced," He said as He sat with His back against the tree and wound one arm around the fire-Maia's slender waist, pulling him flush against His side and resting His chin atop of his head. "And I shall not seek to eradicate thine admirer, but dost not think I will let him off the hook so easily."

The face Mairon was making told Him he took issue with the term admirer, but choose to let it pass, "I have no objections to that."

He decided to push a bit more, "I dost not wish to see thee in other's arms." The Maia was free to refuse of course, but unfortunate accidents were also free to happen to anyone involved. He might as well inform him in advance.

The Maia rolled his eyes. "I do not think that will be an issue, Thou hast successfully chased away any admirers I might have had and I'd rather drown myself than return Eönwë's feelings, if there really art any."

"Dost not do that." Melkor took his hands into His own, bringing them up to His lips. "I can just skin him alive if he dares to try anything."

Mairon observed how his hands fit in Melkor's. "How romantic..."

"Romantic?"

"I overheard Melian talking about it," the Maia shrugged, "It is what this-" he waved his hand around, "-entanglement? courtship? Whatever Thou wishes to call it, is supposed to be, though I do not quite understand it. I guess it is a term for doing or saying things that are pleasant to thy partner."

"Ahhh, so the idea of skinning that brat alive is pleasant to thee?"

Mairon let his head fall back onto the tree trunk with a sigh.


End file.
